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Clearly, Roseanne is not much of a google person.

It is quite evident from the search parameters that she's been using for the past hour or so. The determination to find any relevant information regarding the mysterious caller is unwavering until the moment her attention was drawn into the sound of Clair De Lune echoing all throughout the empty street that she's been strolling through.

Clair De Lune used to be Roseanne's favorite piece. Now, it was a memento.

Roseanne never knew tranquility until she was able to buy her own place, away from her melancholic past, away from the memories that was almost head-splitting, as if it roars straight into her ears, tears her up, leaving her with her thoughts in a tornado stricken wreck.

Home became solitude, home became her sanctuary; not just a house, not a structure, not a place of abode, but home. Through the years, Roseanne grew accustomed to solace by just being on her own.

She was pacing at first. Brisk walking. Talking to herself that everything's going to be just fine.

"Keep walking Roseanne. Don't mind the tune. Keep walking, tranquility is just a few blocks away." Roseanne reminded herself.

It was resounding. The tune emanating from the well-lit bungalow.

Roseanne quickens her pace as she attempts to walk pass by the structure. She wanted to run but her feet felt like it was cemented to the ground. At this point, she succumbed to the urge of taking a glimpse, hell even a glance, as to who's playing the instrument she used to love and who's now mesmerized by how simple yet magical Clair De Lune is.

The young girl was b with happiness and clear satisfaction, as her fingers gently the last few tiles remaining to mark the end of the piece; the parents alongside her, smiling proudly as if it was her first concerto.

Roseanne turned back, with a rueful smile, as she made her way back to the path towards her tranquility. She was ecstatic for the young lady as she was reminded of her first time learning Clair De Lune.

Growing up into a family of musicians, she knew that music will be a constant thing in her life, it courses through her, she was meant to create music, interchangeably, music created her. The woman that she is at this moment. It was all music, until that same music that defined life for her, took everything away from her.

Roseanne was in pain; in ways that she cannot describe. As her sprinting bursts into running as fast as the ghost of her past raced through her mental faculties, the memories that she repressed for so long, was gaping its mouth and was about gnaw its way into her entire being and encapsulate her.

The first time she played Clair De Lune in front of her parents and how their eyes was sparkling as if sunlight constantly shone on it, they were mighty proud of their little Rosie.

The day she received the acceptance letter from Julliard. The way she animatedly waved the document in front of Alice's face and Alice jokingly snarled at the piece of paper; but later on, hugged her as tight as her little frame could handle, as she almost choked from the lack of air but was brought back to life by her encouraging words. She remembered Alice cupping her cheeks and staring back at her with loving eyes and said, "you were meant for greatness my rosie posie, i am proud of you"

The day she discovered that her family was in immense debt, her father's firm was bound for insolvency proceedings. Julliard was way too expensive. Her family knew that for a fact but Rosie's dream was not of pecuniary estimation. Her family didn't mind. Rosie's happiness was priceless and it was of utmost importance.

The day she chose to dwell upon the fact that her family lied to her just so she can continue her studies at Julliard. The day she ran as far as her feet can take, the day she let her emotions cloud her judgment.

The day she had to say goodbye to her family and all the things she considered precious in her life. The day she lost them to someone running amok, in a drug frenzied state, with a fully automatic machine gun in his hands, firing in all cylinders to the place she once called home. As the gun's magazine was emptied so did the life out of her family evaporated into thin air.

From that point on, her life's music faded out.

Roseanne was running as fast as she could. She was panting with every stride she took. She clutched her chest as the agony of the recollection of her life with her family flashed before her eyes. For the first time, she let herself wallow in the vortex of her past, she yielded into the darkness, not knowing when and how would she resurface for air or just flat out cave in and let herself be engulfed.

She was dragging her feet as reached the front porch, with her legs wobbly. She struggled with her keys, as her eyes barely recognised her surroundings from crying profusely.

Roseanne reached her tranquility but all she wanted was to scream her heart out. She wanted to apologise to her parents for being stubborn and letting her emotions get the best of her. She wanted to tell them how much she loved them with all of her heart. She wanted Alice to know how much she adored her and how she looked up to her.

She wanted to sing every existing rhythm, harmony and melody possible for her family but it's all too late. No one will hear her.

As she accepted the fact that while music was indeed, both the chaos and quiet to her thoughts. She can't bring herself to be associated with music once again. It was too much for her. She'd rather live in complete silence. In purposeful tone-deaf silence.